


Will He Still Want Me Come Morning's Light?

by sproutingsons



Category: Spider-Man/Deadpool - Joe Kelly (Comics)
Genre: M/M, a little angst bc i'm in such a mood, just some sappy bullshit, lil bit of sexy times but nothing graphic, this is???? sad, wade is self concious
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-23
Updated: 2016-09-23
Packaged: 2018-08-16 19:26:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 492
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8114617
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sproutingsons/pseuds/sproutingsons
Summary: Some angsty gay shit I wrote and never published.





	

Wade looked out over the city. Over the people, their petty worries and problems and their impending death hanging over their head. Like a watch, you can never tell when it's about to stop

As Wade Wilson looks over the city, Peter Parker is lying in his bed, asleep and ethereal, and that is Wade’s problem.

_Will he still want me come morning’s light?_

Wade knows he isn’t pretty. He isn’t. Now, if he had a decent bone structure before the whole ‘experimental treatment ended in getting kidnapped and tortured’ thing, maybe he wouldn’t feel quite so sorry for himself. And though Wade has long since realized that thinking about the past just ends in hurt, he does it anyway.

He was standing on a roof, on Peter’s roof, with said spider facing him. For once, they weren't arguing. It was dark, no streetlights nearby, and Wade had taken his mask off in the quiet.  
He was out of quips and jokes and anecdotes, he was just himself. His pure, raw, self and he stood in the dark and when Peter stepped towards him he didn’t retreat.

_“What do I have to lose anymore?”_

And their lips connected and it was electric- no, not electric, _God_ that's cheesy. It was every happy moment that Wade had shared with the younger man all brought together and softly, gently, placed on his lips.

  
And then Wade started kissing back, and it was like Peter was waiting for this very moment all his life. Peter stepped closer into Wade’s arms, and grabbed his biceps. Wade couldn’t remember ever being kissed like this, like he wasn’t an intrusion, a disappointment. Peter kissed him like he was everything that mattered in that moment.

And here they are. Hours later, the sun rising, and Wade alone with his insecurities.

_Will he still want me come morning’s light?_

And it was still dark when they stumbled into Peter’s apartment, and it was dark when Wade sucked on his collarbone, a dark bruise stark on porcelain skin. It was still dark when Peter’s heels dug into his lower back and he scratched Wade’s neck as he moaned, turning into putty in the older man’s arms.

And Wade couldn’t remember sex ever feeling like it meant something, like it was an experience more than getting off, like it was something more than compulsory.

Wade stood at the window, bedsheets wrapped around his lower half, watching as life was breathed back into the city.

The boxes were quiet, and so were the streets below him and the sky above him.

  
 _Will he still want me come morning’s light?_  
Will he ever stay to hold me through the night?  
To stop me from drowning in my own heart  
To let me live, every day our own work of art?

_Will he still want me come morning’s light?  
Will he still want me come morning’s light?_

 

_Will he still love me come morning’s light?_


End file.
